


You Can See It In The Blue

by eccentrick



Series: Days With Uncertainty [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Insomnia, Lance (Voltron)-centric, M/M, Mentions Of Gender Dysphoria, Nonbinary Pidge | Katie Holt, Season 2 spoilers, Slow Build, written and posted before s3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2017-08-04
Packaged: 2018-12-06 13:09:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11601306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eccentrick/pseuds/eccentrick
Summary: A promised vacation isn't as relaxing as Lance hopes.[Alt: Lance is forced to face his multitude of issues, which involves a slightly irritating alien 'therapist'. Totally not his idea of a break, if you ask him.]





	You Can See It In The Blue

**Author's Note:**

> Happy birthday to my son Lance!! 
> 
> A lot of things are kept really vague, so when season 3 comes out I won't die of embarrassment lol. So y'all can fill in whatever you have since this is sort of set after all of that. Edit: I wrote this before watching any s3, which means that Lotor isn't at his best. I probably won't edit this since I will probably cringe and then never write again, but please bare in mind. I love Lotor, so if you find anything disrespectful I apologize, please just remember I was writing blind. Thank you. 
> 
> Thanks for everyone in the CSG for being so encouraging. Without you guys I'd probably never would have finished it nor posted it. Thank you all! 
> 
> Title from the song You Can See it in the Blue by the fin. Great song and band. EDIT: if you wanna hear to the playlist I listened to while writing this it is here https://open.spotify.com/user/rainierdawn/playlist/0aj5gIpjPHkg34DDUjJOTF
> 
> Hope you all enjoy!
> 
> (unbeta'd. all mistakes are my own ^^")

 

“We're taking a break.” 

 

The team pauses: Keith in mid-swing, Pidge mid-type, Hunk...mid-bite. To be fair, Lance is also mid-bite, eating the alien version of an energy bar. It has that chalky texture most bars with any nutrient value do, but Lance is hungry and sore enough to not care. 

 

Shiro rolls his shoulders, the only one in full armor. “Okay everyone, take five,” he says, like Keith isn't the only one who needs it. 

 

Allura huffs, hands fisted on her hips, “No, I mean we're taking a real break.” Lance is probably imagining it, but he swears Allura glances at him especially hard. “We're going on a diplomatic mission, to try and get new allies.” 

 

“Oh, so, you mean a fake break. We'll have to make small talk and eat whatever alien version of finger foods we encounter this time.” 

 

Lance snorts, amused that it's Hunk being sassy this time. He's glad that the big guy is finally out of his shell enough to be sarcastic. The first time Hunk sassed Shiro, everyone stood there and gaped, eyes wide, mouth hanging open while Lance and Pidge just laughed and laughed. Now everyone knows better, so Allura just rolls her eyes and gets back to business. 

 

“It'll feel like one of your human spa days, believe me. The Ualnie are kind creatures but care very much about luxury.” Allura looks nostalgic as she smiles faintly. “They were one of my father's favorite allies. I hope to rekindle that relationship.” 

 

“Uh, not to be mean or anything, but it's been 10,000 years since you've known them. They could be warring and mean now, or even extinct.” 

 

“I agree with Lance,” Keith says, and wow, that's surprising. He's about to say something when Hunk elbows him in the ribs, more gentle than usual. “We need to go in like we know nothing about them or like they're Galra controlled.” 

 

Lance regrets his first comment when he sees the empty look that spreads through Allura’s multi-colored eyes, like the bed of a clear stream stirred after kicking up mud. He can't take it back; he's been battle hardened enough to know when to tell the truth, even if it hurts like a fucker. And Allura is strong enough to take just about anything. 

 

“You're both right. It's nice to see you two agree on something.” She smooths out her skirt like nothing bothers her, shoulders practically mountains: the shoulders of a true leader that knows the true weight of power and duty. Lance remembers when he used to see nothing but beauty in Allura, at the very beginning, before he knew better. 

 

Keith and Lance glance at each other, before averting their eyes and shrugging. “Stranger things have happened,” Keith amends. 

 

_ Stranger things have happened,  _ Lance mimics bitterly in his mind. He almost pats himself on the back, since not too long ago he would have said that out loud. A lot of things have changed recently. 

 

“So I order all of you to get some rest, we'll be arriving in a few vargas.”

 

Pidge groans. Lance can see their fingers twitch from across the room, itching to continue their in depth research and hacking, or as Pidge always says: “Just because you can't do it doesn't mean it constitutes as ‘hacking’ Lance.”

 

He makes his way over to the little gremlin, wraps an arm around their shoulders to bury a hand in their greasy hair. 

 

“Pidge, go to sleep. You've been up how many hours?” When it takes a long time for Pidge to count, he shakes his head and continues, “You know what, I don't wanna know. Just get your ass to bed, you  _ definitely  _ need some beauty rest.” 

 

Pidge dodges Lance’s noogies, pushing him away with surprising strength. Lance would have totally been offended if he didn't see the small quirk of their lips, framing the dark circles under their eyes. And newsflash, dark eye circles should totally  _ not  _ be romanticized, because it is your body crying out for rest, and maybe some lavender. If only Pidge would let him apply some of his skincare regime, since he is so kindly offering. 

 

They poke Lance between the ribs before scrambling away in a crab crawl. They sniff, offended, before looking Lance in the eyes, their faux glasses slipping down their nose. “You should be talking your own advice, idiot.” 

 

“Be still my beating heart, does Pidge the stone cold fool care about kind-hearted Lance?!” 

 

Pidge deadpans, “Quit talking in third person, it's annoying.” 

 

“It's okay Pidge-Podge, you can admit your undying love for The Lance, everyone can relate.” 

 

Pidge, once again, groans, but they pack up their laptop and gadgets, and head to bed. 

 

Lance is the only one left for a while, the others leaving while he is nagging Pidge, before he too heads to his room. It doesn't mean he sleeps. 

  
  


He lies awake for much of the few human hours. He's jostled awake from a half sleep by the announcement that the castle ship has made it to the Ualnie planet. Lance, despite popular belief, gets ready quickly, disregarding his stubbly chin. When the planet comes into view, Lance feels his eyes water and his chest constrict. 

 

It looks so much like Earth. 

 

It's perhaps smaller than his home planet, with one large landmass together, like Earth’s before continental drift. The edges look sharp and foreboding, like it is warning the surrounding waters to stay away. The middle has a semi-large circle with what looks like a land bridge across, too perfect to be entirely natural. 

 

It is enough like his Earth to make his mood plummet, and revive itself depending how he looks at it. 

 

He can use this opportunity to wallow and sniffle, or drown just enough in nostalgia that it's only slightly depressing. Lance is unsure which he'll be. 

 

In their usual formation, Lance let's himself glance at his fellow pilots to see if any of them have put the same two and two together, but they all seem purely excited. Even Keith, hair pulled up in a low pony tail, looks restless. 

 

_ Or maybe he's just too suspicious and careful to be excited. And he never seemed that attached to Earth, not like I am. _

 

Allura gives them all The Look: a warning to not mess this up. Every lecture she's ever given to them runs through their heads at that Look, words not needed for the blistering warning in her eyes. Otherwise, she looks like a perfect princess, hair twisted up in an elegant knot, traditional Altean garb marking her as royalty. Not that you need the outfit to tell you that, her stance commanding and sure. 

 

Coran finds enough Altean formal clothing for all the paladins, though Shiro's is definitely tight around the shoulders. It feels like Lance is wearing nothing, the clinging fabric lightweight and soft. This comfort only makes him feel more exposed than before. 

 

Who Lance assumes is the Ualnie equivalent of Allura waits for them outside the castle ship, three fingered hands clenched before them in a nervous, but gentle manner. From the neck down they're humanoid, skin shimmery like polished gems, their veins like the cracks in semi-precious stones. Two arms, two legs, three fingers and one head. Lance takes stock of the features, something he's learned to do over the years. 

 

“Greetings,” The Ualnie leader says as they approach. Two eyes glance at each of the paladins; it's startling to see such obvious knowledge captured within eyes the color of wheat. Their beak gleams as if polished, closing every other word as they speak with Allura (Lance usually spaces out during any further introduction.)

 

_ Man, we haven't seen aliens with beaks for a while,  _ Lance reminisces. The last time had almost ended badly for the team, and Lance really hopes it isn't a bad omen for this trip. 

 

The world around them is lush and thick, trees and vegetation like Lance has only seen in movies. The air is thick with humidity, but glides into his lungs easily, like they were buttered, and he never has to inhale deeply.  

 

_ Wait a minute. . . Isn't too much oxygen a bad thing? But obviously no one is keeling over dead yet, so I'll take that as being safe.  _

 

Hunk next to him seems to have observed the same thing, and quickly begins theorizing, using his fingers to count as he mumbles under his breath. Lance rolls his eyes sky high when he catches Pidge doing the same thing. They, can maybe, ya know, ask? Find and bond with the nerds of this planet, strengthen relations and all that good stuff. 

 

“This kinda reminds me of what an untouched Earth would look like, if everything was jungle.” Lance pipes up, getting antsy at the tense silence coming from the rest of the non-theorizing paladins, AKA Shiro and Keith. Shiro inches close to Allura and Coran, ready to act as the black lion of Voltron, so it's mostly Lance and Keith. 

 

“Yeah, before we almost killed it entirely.” 

 

_ That _ basically kills all conversation. 

 

“Yuuup,” Lance replies, popping the ‘p’ obnoxiously. 

 

“Paladins,” Allura calls, voice carrying and commanding without her having to shout. “The Ualnie’s king, Ually, has a feast readied for our arrival. We eat at sunset.” 

 

The sky is a pleasant pink, so Lance figures by the time they get to wherever these aliens stay, dinner will be ready. But, Lance is going by how Earth’s time passes, and from experience that is almost never the case. 

 

Hunk loops his elbow around Lance’s, dragging an unwillful Pidge behind him. 

 

Exasperated, Hunk says, “Lance, buddy, Pidge thinks these trees don't sustain themselves using photosynthesis. What do you think?”

 

Whining, Pidge argues, “The air is different! Something has to be different, depending on all the evidence I have at the moment, the biggest difference is the trees and the beings who live here.” 

 

“Maybe because of the large amount of trees?” Lance offers, but the two of them barrow ahead, arguing the whole way there. 

 

“Why don't you just ask their leader during dinner? And I mean politely, Pidge. Coran had to hold Allura back that one time with the lizard, bird, hybrid alien thing species that one time, didn't he? And I don't blame her since you asked if their putrid smell was from the oils on their scales or some other weird natural musk.” 

 

“ _ It was an honest, scientific question!”  _

 

“At least we didn't have to eat their food. Man, I really hope this time we're not served bugs or spoiled fruit eggs again.” Adds Hunk.

 

“The bugs weren't that bad, really.” 

 

“Whatever you say,  _ Pidgeon.”  _

 

_ “ _ This is why you don't have a girlfriend, Lance.” 

  
  


As humans, you have to fight irrelevance. There are seven billion humans on Earth, approximately. Every time someone dies, someone is born to replace them, to mask the pain of loss. You, as one person, do not exist to around six billion, nine hundred ninety-nine million, nine hundred ninety-nine thousand, nine hundred ninety-five people, if you are truly loved by five persons. Luck of the draw, life on Earth is. At least, that's what the human species chooses to believe.

 

Now, knowing more alien species exist than human races, Lance feels suffocated. He has to fight even more for that little bit of relevance, to get acknowledged. Even being the blue lion of Voltron doesn't make much difference, since rarely do they actually see  _ him _ . 

 

He's not even sure why it matters to him. He may be selfish, at best vain and at worst, narcissistic, but why is it so wrong to want to be acknowledged, known? So when you die, people stop for a few seconds and mourn. When you're injured, people hold their breaths in shocked anticipation. 

 

_ Be careful what you wish for _ , Lance now knows. 

  
  


The Ualnie live under ground. That doesn't bother Hunk (he has an alien girlfriend that legit  _ lives _ underground, so) nor Pidge much (they're just weird), but it always makes Lance feel sort of trapped. Even Keith looks unfazed, which irritates Lance since nothing really seems to. 

 

The caves carved into elegant caverns reminds Lance of the architecture of Gothic churches, high ceilings and arches. Even the artwork is extra, despite the lack of colored glass Lance finds himself expecting, even though he's aware they're underground and therefore lack the need of windows. 

 

Yeah, he's definitely aware he's underground. His breaths come quicker, palms slippery against the moisture wicking fabric of the Altean get up. Despite the height of the ceilings, Lance’s chest gets heavier the deeper they go within. It's not the deep panic that consumes him when they venture into the tunnels of the Balmera, but it's a notch above Lance’s What To Internally Ignore list capabilities. 

 

He can almost hear Allura’s usual good intentioned nagging of,  _ repressing never fixes anything, Lance. It'll just make the load heavier when it's thrust upon you in the future. It is better to deal with it before something triggers you during battle. _

 

Lance always responds,” _ Tell that to Shiro, princess. He is sure as heck the master of repression _ ,” and that shuts her up pretty quick.

 

He rolls his shoulders and looks anywhere, for anything to focus on, to stop giving this anxiety attack enough fuel to bare its teeth. His eyes zero in on the nape ahead of him, neck that rarely sees the light of day on full display. The blue band that keeps the strands together fascinates him for whatever reason, a contrast from the wisps of black locks escaping its confines. It's gotten longer. No longer is it simply party in the back, but a whole parade. 

 

When his gaze is lingering too much on broad shoulders and thin fingers he catches up to Hunk just in time to see where they'll be eating. 

The room is not what he expects. The ceiling is low, the room hollow, making the atmosphere intimate. And intimidating, to Lance. He can already feel his shaky calm stumble. 

 

The table itself is made from a large slab of stone, still connected to the floor. Even the seats were made in the same fashion. Plates sit pristine on the table, close together and intimate. 

 

Once they all take their seats, Lance tries not to breathe through his mouth, because if he does he will surely start hyperventilating. Luckily Hunk sits to his left, shoulders brushing Lance’s, instinctively knowing through brolepathy (bro telepathy) that Lance is in major need of something to keep him from floating away. Or getting crushed completely. 

 

Allura and Coran sit on either side of Ually, and if Lance didn't know better he'd say that Coran is totally flirting with the rock-alien-ruler-dude. Allura smiles, close mouthed and tight; she's probably irked by her loyal royal guard advisor. . .okay, jack of all trades, really, since Coran was a man of many talents that can not properly be defined. And he just has that vibe. 

 

Thick crystal glasses are filled with some type of liquid that resembles water, but thicker. Lance is stricken by a sudden desire to hit his alien spoon on the glass, to see what sort of sound it'll make, but Lance can totally be a mature paladin. And Keith is sitting on his right, so he doesn't wanna look like a complete idiot more than he already is. 

 

The food stretching towards him immediately beckons him, making him nostalgic. This is the closest thing Lance has seen to Earth food since he unexpectedly left. Cobs of corn are steamed and buttered, smaller than Earth’s but much sweeter. He almost groans when he sees something resembling apple cinnamon pie, sectioned off for desert. The meat is dark and tastes like beef. The alien version of salad the same, besides the orange color and slightly tangy flavor. It's almost too much for Lance, whose eyes are not the only ones watering, so he did his usual routine of avoidance. 

 

“Holy crow, this is so much like Earth’s food!” Well, generic white American food, but Lance will take anything.

 

Ually does their version of a smile, more baring of teeth than anything. “Of course, we have been visiting your home planet for millennium. In fact, we used to have a treaty.”

 

Hunk gasps around corn, chokes, and recovers.

 

”So that's why we don't really need a translator device here! We have been relying on them less, since the Princess and Coran have kindly learned English, and us Altean. But never have we so clearly understood a group of people better.” 

 

“I am their leader, so the languages of the humans are passed down. I know most languages that have developed there, or perhaps their old versions since they evolve so quickly.” 

 

Pidge slaps their hands on the table. “Ancient Aliens! Oh shit, I can't believe it! Earth has been visited by extraterrestrials-”

 

“Pidge, we talked about referring to them in such man-”

 

“But Shiro! Do you know what this means?! We can fill the holes in our history, right now, at this very moment!” Their breath comes out quickly. “Keith, back me up at this, you're the vice captain of Voltron basically!”

 

Keith speaks for the first time since arriving. “We already know aliens have visited Earth, since how do you explain me?”

 

“You're no fun. Any of you!”

 

Lance snickers. He hasn't seen Pidgeon this riled up since. . .okay, last week, but it's hard to keep track of days in space.

 

Clearing her throat, Allura says, “Ually and I agree that we will need to renegotiate the terms of our previous alliance, but I am optimistic that this is the start of a great mutually beneficial relationship.”

 

“Well said princess!” Coran crows, taking a big gulp from his glass in celebration. 

 

“There is only one thing I ask of you, princess,” Ually states, voice the sounds of smooth river stones; soft and lilting, but still rocky all the same. 

 

“We will try to do everything to accommodate Ualnie.” Lance smirks, knowing she hasn't actually agreed to anything. 

 

“Let us prove your sincerity, by performing a coming of age on all of you. Think of it as an initiation. It's perfect timing really, since our youth are going through the same procedure.” 

 

_ I wondered where everyone was,  _ Lance thinks. He wants to trust the Ualnie, but trust did not come cheap during war. Especially intergalactic, universe-conqueror-fighting wars.

 

“What does this initiation entail?” 

 

“At spiritual journey of sorts. We will work through anything that weighs on your psyches. It will be difficult at first, yes, but so is opening an infected wound to let all the pus out.” 

 

_ So totally not a pretty picture. And face our troubles? Sounds  _ way _ too healthy.  _

 

“So basically like us seeing an alien psychotherapist?” Hunk chimes in, looking back and forth from Lance to Pidge like they have all the answers, or just wants a chance to be sassy. 

 

Understanding takes a bit to color Ually’s eyes, but when it does they shake their head slightly. “It is something like that. . .perhaps more intense since we will only be seeing you for one session.” 

 

“. . .Huh.” Shiro hums, making eye contact with Keith, then Allura. They have a conversation with their eyes, Shiro’s with which flashes with uncertainty and what can only be described as fear. 

 

“I'll do it first.” 

 

It slips out of Lance’s mouth before much thinking takes place. He's always been more of a think-on-his-feet guy, where he makes decisions and then thinks it over. Mostly, it has saved some lives. 

 

But as he rolls the idea over, it makes sense. He may be the blue paladin, but when you look at everyone's imaginary stats, Lance is the most easily replaced of the group. The thought makes him feel like a teenager again, but he was correct then, and he is now. He has grown as a person since the doubts had first germinated, but so has everyone else. Inside, Lance is still that scared, insecure teen, and if this didn't go south, it might actually help him. Or perhaps, destroy him once and for all. 

 

_ Fuck it.  _

 

“I'll go first.” He repeats. 

 

Hunk twitches nervously, tone worried and conflicted, “I dunno, man, are you sure?” 

 

The same time Keith huffs loudly.  _ Oh, shut your quiznak.  _

 

The same question resonates in everyone else’s glances. All eyes on him. 

 

“I'm sure.”

  
  


After some debate, Allura finally relents. She seems relieved that she no longer has to fight for every majority, her mouth set in a straight line of decisiveness.

 

“I am trusting you in good faith, Ually, for my father and Altea. If anything happens to my paladins, there will be damage done,” is what she says in lieu of agreement. 

 

Then Lance is whisked away. He's taken to a room, its shape similar to the healing pod room on the castle ship, putting him at ease just enough for him to force himself cross the threshold. This doesn't seem like a good idea anymore, especially when the room flashes and then dims, like one of those ancient cameras. 

 

It's much more high tech than Lance thinks it'd be. The Ualnie were never primitive in his thoughts, but now, he knows that they are much more advanced than humans. Their technology is so invisible you have to know it's there to see it. 

 

“Okay, this is all pretty creepy, you gotta admit.” Lance says to Ually, trying to maybe, ya know, start a conversation with the ever calm, quiet leader. 

 

“May you have a safe journey.” Ually says as he bows, his robe crinkling with the action. 

 

“Wah- what do-  _ journey?”  _ he sputters. 

 

A different Ualnie takes Ually’s place, gold covering their green forehead in the shape of an X. Totally not ominous at all. 

 

“I think I've changed my mind. . .” 

 

“It is too late, Blue Paladin. I am Kalala, I will be guiding you through your journey today.” Their voice is coarse where Ually’s is smooth, not trying to be something it's not. 

 

“And what is this,” he uses quotation marks, “‘ _ journey _ ’? If I'm the adventurer, I should at least know my destination, right?”

 

_ If they say something like “the most important journey is when your destination is unknown”, I'll lose it. _

 

Kalala gestures to the seat that sits in the middle of the oblong room, the low light reflecting a soft blue. 

 

_ Don't tell me they're going to color code our spiritual trips?  _

 

He sits as he’s told, and he almost complains about his soon-to-be-numb tush when the Ualnie makes their way towards him. Kalala’s hands are surprisingly warm as they frame his jaw, tilting his face upwards so his eyes meets their glowing eyes. The skin in the middle of the X separates, like a mouth, only for a third eye to be opened, looking directly at Lance’s forehead. 

 

When Kalala speaks, it's in his mind. 

 

_ You're so tired,  _ they say, sighing sadly as they invade his mind. His eyes water, because, yes, he is, he's so tired. So he lets his eyelids droop, allowing whatever is going to happen just happen. All the fight he once had is gone. 

 

Suddenly he's in the past, a memory unfurling like a delicate flower, fragile. 

 

_ He sees his mom make his brother’s bed. It's all pretty routine, only this time she doesn't know he's there, his little fingers inching the door open enough to peek.  _

 

_ She sits on the side like she's about to tuck someone in, calloused fingers straightening any visible wrinkles, even though by now, Lance knows there are none. She's too meticulous.  _

 

_ In his mind, now, seeing through his nine year old eyes, he can see the beginning of tears edge his mother's brown eyes. Dark circles are cast under her eyes like shadows, more and more pronounced each day until they become a permanent accessory. It doesn't take away from her beauty, just makes her a different version of herself. The version of a mother without one of her children.  _

 

**_That's her now, isn't it?_ ** He asks the air, knowing Kalala can hear him, can see what he sees.  **_I've probably been pronounced dead by now. She might never know what happened to me, and she'll always be wondering and hoping and dying a little more every time I miss a birthday or an anniversary, a mother's day. Isn't she? I'm doing this to her right now. Just like my older brother._ **

 

_ I do not have the answers, Blue Paladin. She is your mother, is she not? That could be your truth, or a fabrication to suit your fears. It is a festering wound that is a part of you. It will never go away until you are given a remedy. Something to ease your mind.  _

 

**_You mean seeing her? Giving her a message? That's too dangerous.  . .I tried, I did, but I can't do it without jeopardizing Voltron’s location._ **

 

_ Than is it your fault? You became the Blue Paladin without real consent, correct? You had no idea you would be put in that position, had no idea what it truly meant. And now you are putting away your own needs to protect the universe. Would your mother really fault you for that?  _

 

He chokes, memory fading and losing color.  **_No. She wouldn't. But that doesn't make me any less of a bad son, now does it?_ **

 

_ Did she ever blame your older brother? After all, he went to war of his own free will. You did not. Are you any less heroic?  _

 

**_I don't want to know what you're implying about him, but not any of it was his fault, got it?_ ** He fumes. 

 

_ Apply that to yourself, Blue Paladin.  _

 

Lance pauses, coming to himself enough to ask a question. 

 

**_Will I ever get to see my family again?_ **

 

_ I believe so. And you should believe as well. _

 

**_Is that your professional opinion, since I assume you have an alien PhD? Next you're going to tell me that faith is the best medicine._ **

 

_ Faith can do many things. It can be a beacon in the dark, or an albatross around someone's neck. Faith is not always healthy and beneficial.  _

 

**_I mean, I was never religious, or anything, but if there is no perfect faith, how is there any relief? I want to be able to stare at my ceiling and let myself imagine a future where I can go home to Earth._ **

 

_ What you want now isn't always what you'll need tomorrow. _

 

Lance almost physically rolls his eyes, the world outside of his mind a kaleidoscope of blue.

 

**_Which means ‘be careful what you wish for’ mam-a jama, which I already know. Trust me. Can we just get on with facing my problems, since I probably have a lot of them? So, chop chop._ **

 

_ Very well,  _ Kalala states, voice taking an almost exasperated air. Hah, well, it never takes long to hear that when someone is around Lance. 

 

This time the memory washes over him like like a gentle wave, allowing him to adjust and acclimate to the sensations. He can smell burnt bacon, senses closed in four walls and anxiety clamping down on him like a bear trap.

 

_ “I dunno man,” Hunk says, his eyes unblinking as they stare at the stove where bacon burns and sizzles. His stupor is only broken when a grease bubble pops, startling him.  _

 

_ “You'll be perfectly fine, Hunk, I swear. You're the smartest dude I know, and a certified genius. Don't sweat the small stuff, chew gum, and let yourself be.” _

 

_ Hunk’s eyebrows do the lifting thing, the ‘what nonsense are you spouting now Lance’ thing.  _

 

_ “It's proven that if you chew gum right before or during an exam, you recall better. Something about blood and brains.” _

 

_ “Huh, didn't know that.”  _

 

_ His roommate glances down as he gathers the bacon, like he just realizes he's burnt their breakfast to a crisp. The look of disbelief and betrayal is pretty amusing, not a well worn look on Hunk. Still, Lance happily grabs a few slices and chows down, making sure to compliment the way the black outer layer really makes the meal. _

 

_ “Will you help me study later?” Hunk asks, like it's even a question that needs answered.  _

 

_ “What kind of bud do you take me as?” _

 

_ - _

 

_ The next days, also known as, The Day We Must Not Speak Of, approaches, Lance walks into their dorm to see panicked Hunk.  _

 

_ He just stares, and stares, not breathing for long beats, gasping and huffing the next. Print out sheets are laying all over their dorm table, each marked with a different color highlighter, neat neon lines progressively becoming more crooked and frantic as they go on.  _

 

_ “Oh man,” Lance breaths, rushing over. He gathers the mess and sorts it out by sections, the way he knows Hunk prefers. _

 

_ “Hunk, you need to do something other than studying right now. Your brain is gonna be fried if you don't stop.”  _

 

_ “Can't stop. . .won't stop. . .” _

 

_ Lance snorts. He's not sure Hunk knows what he said, until Hunk also chortles, sitting up straight enough for his back to crack six different ways.  _

 

_ “You've been listening to the oldies channel, haven't you?”  _

 

_ Hunk shrugs and says, “Only when I sleep, which is like, never. Every time I close my eyes I see red pen ink and smell failure. So, yeah, no sleep for Hunk.”  _

 

_ That must remind him of the impending doom of finals because he quits breathing again, alternating between big gulps of air to nothing at all. _

 

_ “How about this. I help you study tomorrow, after I knock you out and drag you to your bed.” Lance is not the best at studying, nor facing the reality of possible failure, but he also knows Hunk will ace anything put in front of him, so it can't be too bad. And, it'll count as studying for himself. _

 

_ “That sounds wonderful. Wake me up if I start mumbling equations.”  _

 

_ “Nah man, I'll write that stuff down.” _

 

_ - _

 

_ Doomsday has approached despite Lance’s careful avoidance. His leg jiggles, shaking the entire desk, but if he stops moving completely he'll think too much, and thinking right now is a big no-no. He chews gum with a vengeance, teeth clicking.  _

 

_ Since the Garrison is old fashioned, their finals are taken with paper. This is a benefit, because it means that Lance can chew on a the top of a pencil and not be judged too much. At least he's upgraded from pens, since a mouthful of ink is so not going to help him.  _

 

_ Jiggle, jiggle, shift, fidget. Repeat. He swears they drone on about the sophisticated rules of Garrison test taking for an hour just to make the students wait in suspense and dread. The stuffy classroom practically reeks of angst and anxiety. A good portion coming from Hunk, who he shoots finger guns at and mimes wiping sweat from his brow to get a smile out of his somber bro.  _

 

_ Finally, the final is set in front of him. His obnoxious smile is frozen on his face within the first page, where he just blanks.  _

 

_ Air rushes into his lungs, but never finds its way back out of them. Sweat coats his hands, pencil slipping from his hand, falling to the floor. When he picks it up he sees everyone at work. Pages ahead of him. Hands shake. Fingertips numb.  _

 

 _Stupid_ _stupid_ _stupid_ _stupid_ _. The chant encompasses his entire thought process._

 

_ He remembers how proud his mother was when he first got accepted into the Garrison. All her baby’s hard work had paid off, and her boy deserved a higher education to follow his dreams. Only for that bright eyed boy to be reduced to this, this stupid  _ idiot _. A boy who procrastinated and fucked everything up. All to avoid acknowledging his incompetence.  _

 

_ He just isn't a genius.  _

 

**_Wow, why was I like that?_ **

 

Kalala peels back the memory with precision, leaving only only a white backdrop in his mind. 

 

_ You mean, why  _ are _ you like this?  _

 

**_Quiznak, I just got burned. But that was totally different to the situation now._ **

 

The alien hums.  _ How so? You avoid responsibility because you are not a genius. Or, you put expectations of others and apply it to yourself. You are of the upper average percentile of intelligence. That is nothing to be ashamed of. Yet you continually comparing yourself to anomalies, above average humans.  _

 

**_So? I'm the only one on the team that doesn't really serve a purpose, I just fill space. A need easily replaced._ **

 

_ Ever considered that if your teammates knew of your line of thinking they could possibly be insulted? You are making them out to be people who only value those who are like them, only consider people of super intelligence useful. Even if that is so, you do not have to be useful to be worth something.  _

 

**_Hello, ever heard of anxiety? Irrational thinking is a thing. I've already realized all of this. . .I know I’m being unfair to the others. But I can't help it, I just feel like all I do is fail or fade into the background._ **

 

_ You are the Blue Paladin, Guardian Spirit of Water. It only makes sense. What is something often disregarded but needed for basic survival?  _

 

**_You have to already know I'm not good with riddles, come on!_ **

 

_ Water. Some cherish it, because it is scarce and hard to find. Others have had it their whole lives, so they often forget its importance in everyday life. They take it for granted. But deprive them of it for a day or two, and they realize how lucky they are to have had it within reach.  _

 

**_. . .well, that's not how relationships work. And surprisingly, this isn't making me feel any better. Wow, I'm shocked._ **

 

_ This is not made to make you feel better, Blue Paladin. It is designed to make you realize the truth within yourself, whether it is what you want to see and feel or not.  _

 

**_It's hard to see everyone be. . .their usual amazing selves but you never truly being useful. I may be the “sharpshooter” but that's rarely of any use. I’m surrounded by gifted geniuses! And I feel horrible even thinking like this!_ **

 

_ Being worth something has nothing to do with your usefulness. You may not be gifted in certain areas like the others, but you are of great importance to the team. Here, let us see.  _

 

_ Pidge has been acting up lately. She’d get moody and storm off, once even going as far as busting her helmet screen from throwing it across the room. Lance thought perhaps it is the demise of Rover, or maybe even the reveal that Keith is kinda-sorta Galra that's got her so upset, even though that’d be pretty immature for the Green Paladin. Then again, Lance isn't the one with family captured by said alien race.  _

 

_ The last straw is when she snaps at Hunk. Which, okay, is a sore spot for Lance. But nobody, not even Pidge, should get  _ that _ upset at the dude. Even Keith, resident hot head, never goes this far.  _

 

_ When she storms off, Lance decides to follow and find out what the quiznak is wrong with her. He’s never seen her this worked up, this volatile over anything, ever. And he's seen her get pissed off at Everson plenty.  _

 

_ Lance is basically the master of teasing just enough to get a reaction, toeing the line between exasperation and true anger. He knows the nuances of his teammates expressions, and never has he seen the look of confusion and annoyance present on her face.  _

 

_ The halls are silent as he follows a fuming Pidge. Maybe even the mice have noticed that it's a Not Mess With Pidge day, their scurrying paw steps absent. Pidge must notice him following, because she takes the long way to her room, making confusing and twisting turns in an attempt to lose him. He draws back long enough to let Pidge think she's lost him, before he continues on his mission.  _

 

_ He sets his shoulders in a strong stance, to let Pidge know that he's here for answers and isn't about to back down. He's honestly surprised Shiro hasn't talked to her yet, but maybe he has, and he just made it worse. That possibility gives him pause, but he sucks it up and toes the line.  _

 

_ In hindsight, he probably should have knocked. But he just walks right in, hoping to catch Pidge before she can make her escape.  _

 

_ He finds her hunched against her bed, on the floor, staring into space, brow furrowed. Lance shields his eyes and looks away when he sees that her shirt is off, but is slightly halted when he notices she's wearing her binder. Still. Which is confusing since everyone knows she's. . .well, a girl.  _

 

_ Does she still feel like she has to hide? _

 

_ “. . .Pidge?”  _

 

_ Lance isn't sure why he forms her name into a question, but he feels like he has whiplash. He really wants to just book it out of there, because someone he sees as a little sister is half naked. But then all of this would be for nothing, Pidge would still be a grump, and this would haunt Lance because, honestly, he's so confused right now. And embarrassed. _

 

_ She shrinks into herself as she throws her signature shirt back on, “Go away.”  _

 

_ Lance winces. He's only ever seen or heard the little gremlin this down when she speaks of her family. Any irritation Lance might've felt towards her dies, seeing her so upset. Pidge rarely lashes out, with such true viciousness. _

 

_ His older brother was like this. He'd never let himself feel negative emotion; instead he'd lash out and wear his raw hurt and anger on his sleeve, unprocessed. But if you asked him what was wrong, he'd deny any such feelings with a smile. It had always seem silly to a young Lance. That was before puberty. _

 

_ “Nope, no can do.” He motions for her to scoot over, and she actually complies, leaving him just enough space to sit between her and the wall. “I'm afraid I'm stuck. I'm stuck and you're stuck with me. So now we can both suffer together.”  _

 

_ “Such an uplifting statement. Thanks so much Lance, I feel better. Now you can go.” She tries to push him up, and away, but with her itty-bitty short arms she can barely manage to make him kneel. He laughs and plops down again, with finality. He isn't going anywhere. Pidge seems to realize that, because she just huffs and crosses her arms _ ,  _ preparing for battle. _

 

_ “You're oh so welcome, Pidgeon. Now, you're going to tell big bro Lance what the issue is, so he can take care of it since he's an amazingly talented genius at relationships and feelings.”  _

 

_ “Bullshit.” _

 

_ Lance gasps, “ _ Language,  _ Pidge.”  _

 

_ Pidge rolls her eyes, shuffling closer to Lance; close enough to lean against him, but she stays rigid enough so their shoulders don't brush. He wonders if she likes the proximity, just not the whole touching thing, which he can respect.  _

 

_ It's silent between them long enough that Lance decides to break it. “Soooo….”  _

 

_ “Just out with it Lance. If you keep that up I'll get irritated and I  _ so  _ do not have the energy.”  _

 

_ “And here I had a whole inspirational speech planned-” _

 

_ “ _ Lance.”

 

_ He sighs for show, fidgeting as he gets situated. He has a feeling that this'll take awhile, and he doesn't want to go butt numb halfway through.  _

 

_ “What's your deal, Pidge? You've been grumpier than usual, and we're all pretty worried about you. Honestly, I'm surprised mom and dad haven't given you a talkin to yet.” _

 

_ She grumbles, and Lance has known her long enough that this is her feeling guilty. She's not exactly good at apologies (her and Keith should totally get a club going, maybe add Allura as well), but Lance feels a little guilty himself for making her feel bad. She’s obviously having an issue, one that he plans to try and fix, but still. . .he shouldn't give her a hard time until he gets to the bottom of this Pidge mystery.  _

 

_ “I don't exactly know what's the matter, that's the thing Lance. It irritates the heck out of me, not knowing.”  _

 

_ “Maybe explain it to me. . .? The Lancelot might be able to fix this problem.”  _

 

_ Pidge adjusts her glasses. She still wears them, even though from what Lance understands, she doesn't need them. “It's embarrassing and illogical.” _

 

_ Grinning his most reassuring smile, Lance says, “I am the king of the embarrassing and the illogical.” Once again Pidge’s discomfort fills the air, filling in the blanks she could never outright voice. “Okay, so how about I tell you something potentially embarrassing, and in turn you tell me how you're feeling?”   _

 

_ Pidge nods slowly, resting her head on her crossed arms. _

 

_ “Okay so here goes. Not exactly how I thought this would go. I'm bisexual.” _

 

_ She sends him a deadpan look. “It's not exactly groundbreaking Lance. You flirt with  _ aliens  _ for quiznak's sake.”  _

 

_ He tuts, rolling his tongue because he can. “Patience is a virtue, Pidgeon. That wasn't the embarrassing thing. That was just informing you so you're not confused or anything. No, the truly horrifying thing is that. . .I might have a itsy-bitsy-teeny-weeny crush on Keith.”  _

 

_ “. . .that's not exactly surprising either.”  _

 

_ “WHAT DO YOU MEAN?” He screeches.  _

 

_ “Everyone seems aware of it but Keith. I mean, the “rival” thing and the beef, come on. But. . .still,” Pidge pauses long enough to snort, “thank you for telling me. I know it took a lot courage to admit it outright.”  _

 

_ “You can show your appreciation by telling me what's been bothering you. . .and not speaking a  word to Keith of what I've told you. It took a fifth of my life to utter those forbidden eleven words.” _

 

_ Any humor is sucked out of Pidge’s expression. He notices how bloodshot her eyes are, the usual tired, but sharp look gone for a deer in the headlights stare. Lance almost calls off the whole promise, but he has a feeling that if he lets her back out right now he'll never know what's been bothering her. So he does the thing he promised and just sits and listens, even if Pidge doesn't speak a word.  _

 

_ “I feel. . .weird, lately,” Pidge finally says, like the words physically hurts her to utter.  _

 

_ “Weird, how?”  _

 

_ “Just. . .weird. Ever since I. . .told everyone I'm a girl.”  _

 

_ He tries his best to keep the confusion out of his voice. “Weird how? That the rest of us minus Allura are guys. . .? Do we make you uncomfortable?” _

 

_ “No. I just, it felt kinda weird when you guys all thought I was a dude too. Just not as pronounced.”  _

 

_ She seems to have a hard time articulating the feeling, because she takes a great pause.  _

 

_ “I just don't feel really comfortable being either. . . boy and girl. If that makes sense.  .  .who am I kidding, of course it doesn't! It sounds completely stupid.”  _

 

_ Lance stops Pidge from standing up. “If that's how you feel it isn't stupid, Pidge. Just like how it isn't stupid for me to like men and women. Just like it isn't weird for Hunk to be dating an alien. Or for Coran’s mustache to be so pristine.” _

 

_ That seems to get a small smile out of her before she becomes somber once again. She shifts away enough from him to be able to lift her arms up. Lance looks away when he sees Pidge start to pull her shirt up enough to show the beginnings of her binder.  _

 

_ “Oh, come on, you're not gonna see anything,” Pidge says in reply to Lance’s averted gaze. “I'm not sure why I still wear this thing. It was such a pain in the beginning, and now. . .it's like a safety net or blanket, I guess. Makes me feel better.”  _

 

_ “Well, if you feel better with it on then wear it. I won't say anything to the others if you don't want me too. . .but I think you should when you're ready, because, none of us will care whether you're a guy, girl, alien, robobeast. But it'd be better if the others knew so. . .how do I say. . .you'll feel comfortable?” _

 

_ Pidge smiles, a true smile that has the beginnings of relief. “It would be pretty cool if I found out I had mysterious alien lineage, though.” _

 

_ “We can't all get what we want, Pidge-Podge.”  _

 

_ “So. . .Keith, huh?” Pidge leers, so happy with herself. Why’d he even worry about this menace? _

 

_ “I regret everything in life if it means it's lead to this moment,” Lance groans, but he's smiling too. He hasn't exactly fixed Pidge’s dilemma; he just shares the load now, and he thinks maybe that's all people need sometimes. _

 

**_So I helped Pidge out a bit, big whoop._ **

 

_ You helped them out at a very crucial moment in their life, correct?  _

 

**_Well. . .I guess. Turns out that Keith was the one who knew what they were talking about though. I wasn't sure what non-binary was, so in the end they should really thank Keith. If it were just me we'd still be using female pronouns unknowingly._ **

 

_ Unknowingly. Just because you were ignorant on the topic, does not mean you were or are in the wrong. You saw that there was more to learn so you expanded your knowledge. There is nothing wrong with that, Blue Paladin.  _

 

**_I guess I see what you mean, but still. . ._ **

 

_ Negative feelings and thoughts cannot be dissolved completely at first. Just know, that logically, you did what was right for that moment, and work on moving ahead. Get yourself out of that head space.  _

 

**_Once again, easier said than done. If I forget things like that, let myself go, I'll just make another mistake._ **

 

_ Forgetting and letting go are different things. Forgetting is not learning, while letting go is acknowledging and moving on.  _

 

**_All this wisdom you're shoving in my face is going to start blurring together._ **

 

_ It will always be there.  _

 

**_Where is_ ** **there** **_?!_ **

 

Kalala’s exasperation reflects in his mind. It's now a familiar feelings so he relaxes. 

 

_ This is not something one would soon forget, am I correct? _

 

**_You underestimate the amount of weird alien traditions I go through on the daily bases._ ** __

 

_ But this is about you. And no one else.  _

 

**_Right, right. Easy to forget. I guess I'll probably remember this, whether it'll be lucid dreams or not. Life just is too fast right not to worry over personal feelings. It's better and more productive to keep team morale up._ **

 

_ That is where our opinions differ. You can not take care of others before you take care of you.  _

 

The next excerpt of his life jars him, leaving goosebumps on his physical body. 

 

_ They're all stunned. Grief chokes any reaction besides shock, tremors travelling from his finger tips to his core. Adrenaline still buzzes in his bloodstream, heart pumping like a machine.  _

 

_ Shiro is gone.  _

 

_ Lance isn't sure what has happened, what's the cause of Shiro's sudden disappearance. All he knows at this moment is pain, panic, and. . . _

 

_ He can't even fully describe it. It is undefined. A mix of grief, disbelief and defeat. Maybe even some doubt; doubt that they've defeated Zarkon, doubt that they'll ever see Shiro alive again, doubt that Voltron will ever again be formed. Irrational guilt makes his eyes water, head still held high enough to see the utter devastation on Keith face.  _

 

_ That's right.  _

 

_ Shiro has left the Black Lion to Keith. There is no denying it. And it only makes sense, since Keith was basically the “ace” of Voltron. Arguably the best pilot and fighter. But the guy doesn't look so good under the weight of responsibility thrust upon him, and Lance can't really blame him.  _

 

_ He's lost the most important person to him and was given the most important job since, well ever, at the same time. Just thinking of piloting the Blue Lion again makes Lance break out in a sweat, not to mention the Black Lion. Lance is surprised and worried that Keith hasn't let out even a single tear yet.  _

 

_ It might have not hit him yet, but it will. When it does, Lance doesn't want him to be alone and hurting. So that's what makes him stay behind as the others go off in private to grieve and recover, planning to meet up back within the next few vargas. Everyone is hurt enough to need a healing pod, but they can't afford to heal everyone at once. They all elect that Allura would be the first, since she looks shaken and drained. All they can do is wait.  _

 

_ He approaches quietly, but not too quietly, since he really doesn't want to startle the Red Paladin. “Hey, buddy. . .”  _

 

_ “Don't call me buddy,” is the reply. Lance makes sure to sit with a good amount of distance between them, but he doesn't listen to the harsh tone.  _

 

_ Hell, he feels like being a little harsh. Not to any one person, maybe just the universe. . . _

 

_ “Fine, fine, I won't call you buddy. I'll just sit here in my little hidey-hole.” Lance makes sure to slide into a crook in the floor, which, really can't be called a hidey-hole. It was a joke he and his siblings always said when one was upset. Made them laugh, sometimes made them annoyed or angry, but it always pulled a reaction out of them.  _

 

_ Instead he gets silence, tense and sickly. He can almost smell the devastation through the scents of sweat, blood and anger. _

 

_ So much anger.  _

 

_ “How can you be so. . .” Keith stops talking as abruptly as he starts.  _

 

_ “So. . ?”  _

 

_ “So  _ okay?!  _ Everything has gone to hell and you don't even seem to care! What's wrong with you?!” He yells, voice raising at every word.  _

 

_ Lance stops. He looks at his fingers, which for some reason, ache bone deep, blood crusting around his cuticles. He looks at the floor, and his makeshift hidey-hole that isn't really a hidey-hole. At his worn armor.  _

 

_ Anywhere but at Keith.  _

 

_ But Keith being Keith, he demands an answer. An answer that Lance figures he should give.  _

 

_ “Do you really think I'm ‘okay’, Keith? That I'm not affected in any way? Then you're not looking hard enough. Everyone deals with things their own way, thank you very much.”  _

 

_ Keith quiets, his whole body stilling. He grinds his teeth, probably to keep from back talking, before he hangs his head. Lance decides not to storm off like he usually would've.  He just stays where he is, as motionless as Keith is, except for a jiggling leg.  _

 

_ Lance thinks maybe many people are silent and still when the shock hits. Just like with a stomachache, perhaps they all think if they stay in one place, muscles locked, that the pain won't come back. That the shock will be there to stay, to numb any other emotions out.  _

 

_ But still Lance jiggles his leg, his whole body bouncing from the force. If he stays still, he'll explode. He'd rather take the ache than the numbness. _

 

_ “I just can't believe,” Keith's voice cracks, wobbly and vulnerable, prone to breaking. “I just can't believe he's really gone.”  _

 

_ Lance scoots closer to Keith, until they bump shoulders. Instead of immediately pulling away like he expects, Keith settles against him, like he doesn't have the energy to stay sitting up. Lance succumbs to the slump as well, until they're both pushing all their weight on one another. Two forces usually repelled by each other now giving each other strength.  _

 

_ “Neither can I.”  _

 

_ Lance doesn't even comment on the wetness of his shoulder when Keith finally comes to his senses and excuses himself.  _

 

_ He thinks perhaps not everything that comes out of this situation will be bad.  _

 

_ \-- _

 

_ Lance can't sleep.  _

 

_ He stares at his blue tinted room, his sleeping mask discarded on his forehead in disgust. His mind is still on the meeting that took place a few vargas earlier. Allura will be the Paladin of Red Lion, and Lance isn't sure how he feels about it. It seems like it'd make more sense for Allura to take over as the Paladin of the Black Lion; not because he doesn’t think Keith can be capable of being some sort of leader, he just thinks it's too soon and too much pressure for Keith to be put under even the best of circumstances. Allura is by now used to extreme responsibility as the Princess.  _

 

_ He wishes he was one who sleeps to escape. No, of course not, he has to be one who never gets rest, the tension of the world too much for his mind. Lance thought he had his insomnia under control, his sleep and wake patterns consistent and restful. That is all in the past, all back on earth. There is no pattern as a Paladin.  _

 

_ Just thinking of the heavy lead of sleeplessness that will be in his blood tomorrow makes him want to panic. He knows that if he stays in bed with wide eyes, his anxiety will never let him rest and it will start of cycle that will take weeks to unravel and set straight.  _

 

_ The only thing he can do is get up.  _

 

_ His sore muscles protest and his creaky joints complain, but still he stands. He feels a rush of adrenaline when he straightens, his body going ‘woah, okay, we're moving now’. It'll only last him a few minutes, but enough to where he'll convince himself to roam about the castle ship.  _

 

_ The brightness from the hallway assaults his eyes, painting the surroundings with floating orbs as they adjust. His slippers scuff the hard floor, a soft sound in the otherwise silent and slightly humming atmosphere.  _

 

_ Lance wanders aimlessly. Or, perhaps not, since he ends up in the room he's dubbed “the family room”. It's where they go to rest after sparring and fight simulations, and it's always where he feels the closest to those around him. Maybe it's the adrenaline or camaraderie, but everyone is more open in this room. Pidge looks up from their laptop more often, Keith understands when Lance is teasing, Shiro relaxes, and Hunk cuddles.  _

 

_ It's where he finds Keith, knees pressed against his chest.  _

 

_ “Hey, Keith. Can't sleep either?” _

 

_ Keith quickly stiffens, straightening from his vulnerable position. Lance ignores the obvious leave-me-alone vibes and sidles next to him.  _

 

_ “Now before you go and bite my head off, I'm not here to bother you.”  _

 

_ “I wasn't going to bite your head off, I was going to ask why you're not getting your beauty sleep, because you obviously need it.”  _

 

_ Lance gasps, shuffling closer to Keith. “Did Keithy boy...just tell a joke?!”  _

 

_ Keith sputters, shooting Lance a dirty look. A few months ago he might've been insulted, but now he is aware that Keith has that look on his face a majority of the time.   _

 

_ “Despite what everyone thinks, I can tell jokes. And take jokes.” _

 

_ “Sure, buddy. We get that now but it's still surprising, you know? We're used to ‘vol. . .tron?’ Keith, which is still pretty dang hilarious.” _

 

_ Keith snorts, actually snorts, as he rubs his eyes. Lance notices how pale he's gotten, along with sickly dark circles under his eyes. Not even Pidge-I’ve-pulled-three-all-nighters ever looks this. . .horribly pallid.  _

 

_ “When was the last time you slept?”  _

 

_ “I took a nap. . .yesterday, I think? I'm fine.”  _

 

_ It's Lance’s turn to snort. “You look like you're about to drop. It's totally not healthy, and honestly I'm not sure why no one else has said anything yet.”  _

 

_ “Oh, they've noticed. But,” Keith stops and then proceeds to speak in a faux British accent. Altean, Lance corrects himself. “‘Coran, we must do something about Keith. But I am unsure of Earthian customs when it comes to periods of mourning’.” _

 

_ He gapes, sure that the lack of sleep must be making him hallucinate, or perhaps sleep deprivation is starting to sink its claws into poor Keithy.  _

 

_ Keith stops, looking over at Lance as an awkward silence begins. Lance realizes too late that Keith must be waiting for him to react. He's too busy being shocked that Keith is, dare he say, having a friendly conversation with him. Especially since Keith has avoided everyone lately.  _

 

_ Before a look of embarrassment and hurt can fully set in Keith's features, Lance laughs belatedly. Or maybe not, since the other just looks relieved and smiles softly.  _

 

_ “Keith, you're not too bad. You're officially in the ranks of Lance’s competition.” _

 

_ “For what?” Keith asks in disbelief. _

 

_ “I'm the comedic relief in this crew, and I don't want my spot threatened by the hot shot.”  _

 

_ “Hot shot?”  _

 

_ “Now you're just playing clueless.”  _

 

_ Keith laughs, nose twitching like he is about to sneeze. Maybe he's allergic to fun, which would make sense. His laughs naturally fade out, leaving the atmosphere in a suspended comfortable silence.  _

 

_ Lance isn't the first to break it. “You're not just comedic relief, Lance. So even if that was taken away, you wouldn't be anything less than you are now.”  _

 

_ “Really vying for my spot, are ya?”  _

 

_ “Eh, well, no.”  _

 

_ “I was joking.” _

 

_ “Oh.” _

 

_ Lance feels a warmth in his chest, the glacier residing there slowly but surely melting, promising to leave fertile ground for things to grow. For new beginnings.  _

 

_ “I guess my position is safe with you. Now I only gotta worry about Coran.”  _

 

_ \--  _

 

_ It becomes a Thing. A Thing that deserves to be capitalized and emphasized in his thoughts. A Thing Lance would have never thought could form between the polar opposites. _

 

_ At first it's an accident. Lance, once again plagued by thoughts of failure and destruction, can't sleep. He curses his unforgiving brain for withholding precious melatonin, a process that is counterproductive in so many ways. But it is his brain after all.  _

 

_ His wandering thoughts guide his feet to the family room. Probably with some misguided hope that someone might be there to share in his misery, the false sense of night within the castle walls turning against someone other than himself. _

 

_ He never suspect that someone might actually be there. He figures that Keith must have chosen a new perch by now, to avoid annoying visits from yours truly. Definitely not something his barren chest aches to think about. Not at all.  _

 

_ But there Keith is, in something actually resembling night clothes. They are actually pretty similar to his, only red. Go figure. _

 

_ And, just like he was waiting for Lance’s arrival all along, Keith looks up, shoulders relaxing when he confirms that it's him.  _

 

_ “Long time no see,” Lance says.  _

 

_ “We saw each other at dinner, Lance.” _

 

_ “Nope, no, you were visited by Half Asleep Lance, and by half asleep, I mean falling asleep in the alien equivalent of mashed potatoes.”  _

 

_ “Coran did get the texture pretty close this time,” Keith returns, shrugging his slumped shoulders.  _

 

_ “Indeed he did, with the lovely assistance of Hunk. It was a welcome break from hearing all about his research details with Pidge and having to force the big softy to go to sleep.”  _

 

_ “Yeah.” _

 

_ The silence once again envelopes them. It isn't an empty one, something Lance had gotten used to in the Garrison, before he gotten close to Pidge and Hunk. Comfortable, a sort of peace offering.  _

 

_ “Hey, Lance, you got a little something there,” Keith tells him after a long quiet moment. It startles Lance out of his half-way-there sleep, and he doesn't even get annoyed.  _

 

_ “Huh? Where?”  _

 

_ Lance thinks of all the embarrassing possibilities as Keith just gestures vaguely over his face. Lance reaches to search for any left over food goo, or maybe even some dried spit, and then proceeds to smear his face mask. He forgot it was even there.  _

 

_ “Ah, man! I can't believe I fell for that one!”  Lance squawks, hand effectively green, slightly tingling from an herb Hunk had discovered that resembles mint.  _

 

_ Keith throws his head back, heaving great big laughs. Lance just stares.  _

 

_ Lance narrows his eyes as he averts his gaze. _

 

_ “You know what. . .”  _

 

_ Lance then wipes off the rest of his beauty mask onto both hands. It's a waste of precious skin care products, but it's totally worth it as he smears it across the bridge of Keith's nose, then his cheeks, barely getting under his eyes as Keith tries to buck Lance away. _

 

_ “There, now maybe your skin will glisten like mine does. You're welcome.”  _

 

_ “My skin feels weird now! What is this. .?”  _

 

_ “I'm not sure, ask Coran.”  _

 

_ “HUH?!”  _

 

_ “I'm kidding, relax.” _

 

_ \--  _

 

_ They never talk about the Thing. It all almost seems like a dream, except Keith now sits closer, is more open with everyone when Lance jokes around (Pidge starts sending Lance knowing glances, eyebrows forever sloped when Lance and Keith are in the same room.) Keith only ever closes himself off when they speak details about finding Shiro.  _

 

_ Of which they are no closer to figuring out just where he is. It's like he no longer exists in this plane of being. Slav doesn't exactly comfort Lance when he mentions this in passing.  _

 

_ Lance worries about the heavy responsibility placed on Keith's shoulders; the team have yet to need Voltron, but that is unlikely to continue. Very unlikely, especially with the hints of new leadership in the Galra empire. _

 

_ “I wonder who it is, and why they haven't done anything.” Lance says in a meeting.  _

 

_ Allura, ran ragged and still stands as tall as ever answers, “I assume that if Zarkon survived all this time, so has Lotor.”  _

 

_ “Lotor?” Hunk questions. “Any body’s gotta be better than Zarkon.”  _

 

_ “False,” the Princess says, “Zarkon had no patience, while Lotor will wait however long it takes to win. So I suspect this long hiatus is calculated, meant to ease us, let us scramble around as he plans.” _

 

_ “Sounds like a swell guy,” Lance says.  _

 

_ Coran nods. “Although, I reckon he might be high and mighty with power right about now. He has been waiting to take the throne for, well, ten thousand years.”  _

 

_ “That doesn't sound good.” Hunk frets, hands drawn to his mouth as he worries.  _

 

_ “We'll just have to be cautious and wait it out. If he thinks we’re going to be impulsive, he's wrong.” _

 

_ “Keith, buddy, that's pretty rich coming from you. No offense.” _

 

_ “None taken, I guess. I understand why you'd say that Lance. . .but this is what Shiro would do.” Lance wonders if Keith realizes he's speaking as though Shiro is never coming back. _

 

_ Pidge looks on from their perch on the back of the couch, head resting on their chin. They adjust their glasses before speaking. “Should we, though? Maybe that's what this Lotor guy is riding on. I mean, I would expect my arch enemies to wait under new leadership too. . .so maybe we have to surprise this dude. And we have the Blade of Mamora for help.”  _

 

_ “We need to focus on looking for Shiro first, Pidge.” Keith has his Black Lion voice going, stiff and prone to breaking. “We're too vulnerable right now, and the advantage of surprise wouldn't last long enough for us to get anything done.”  _

 

_ “I agree with Keith.”  _

 

_ Everyone looks at Lance like he's grown a new, somehow better looking head. Well, all except Pidge, who just sleepily smirks. _

 

_ “What's with those looks? I agree with Keith, these things have been known to happen. Besides, we don't know much about this Lotor guy, and sorry Coran and Princess, but your information is ten thousand years old, and people change. Even evil, universe dominating people.”  _

 

_ Hunk nods. “Allura seems to know the guy, though. The information might be dated but it's more than any of us would guess. So I vote to wait it out. Lotor will think we're lazing around but we'll be ready.”  _

 

_ “I thought we always agreed on these things, Hunk.” Pidge sighs in annoyance. _

 

_ “We can agree to disagree.”  _

 

_ “I hate it when you play with my words.” Pidge says as they roll their eyes. Lance gives Hunk a high five, then shoots them finger guns to gloat.  _

 

_ Allura takes the final vote.  _

 

_ “Majority wins. We shall wait.”  _

 

_ \-- _

 

_ They are never idle after that. They train, as soon as they wake up, and almost until they go to sleep. They mainly train their bodies, focusing on developing individual skills. Lance has never had as sore muscles as he does now. The upside of the new rigorous routine is that he no longer stares into space (heh) and falls asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow.  _

 

_ Or maybe it's not an upside since the next day Keith looks exhausted, and avoids Lance’s eyes. Lance doesn't think Keith is mad that he missed their nightly routine; if Keith is mad, everyone will know it. They're just more awkward around each other now, and Lance doesn't like that. He doesn't want to destroy all the progress they've made.  _

 

_ It's definitely not because he pictures Keith waiting for him, and the resigned look of disappointment he must have had when he realized Lance wasn't coming.  _

 

_ So that night, despite his lead eyelids, he goes to their usual spot.  _

 

_ Keith is nowhere to be seen. _

 

_ Lance grits his teeth against the embarrassment.  _ You're so ridiculous,  _ he berates himself. Of course Lance was making a big deal over their obviously threadbare bond.   _

 

_ Instead of going back to his room, Lance heads to the training room to lead off some steam. When he reaches it, he's surprised to see it already in use. He rolls his eyes, because of course this is where Keith would be. Here, in the training room, disobeying Allura’s direct demand that they all rest after such a harsh day of training.  _

 

_ “Keith,” he yells over the clash of swords. He ignores the reprimanding tone that rings in his voice.  _

 

_ Keith freezes, glancing over his shoulder so long that he almost ducks too late, the training bot cutting close to the idiot's head.  _

 

_ “Lance,” is his exasperated response, deactivating the bot before it almost kills him (again).  _

 

_ “Sorry, not sorry!” _

 

_ Rolling his shoulders, Keith slumps onto the floor, the noise startling Lance from his. . .admiration.  “What are you doing up?”  _

 

_ “Uh, looking for you, obviously. Imagine my surprise when I find you here, when it was the Princess’ express command for us to chill out.” _

 

_ “I can't rest, not when I can't even form Voltron!” The way he says it makes Lance wince, tone like a kicked puppy.  _

 

_ “We. We can't form Voltron. And okay, imagine this: you find Shiro like this, training until he almost passes out. You, being the nice person you are, tell him to rest his idiot butt, and cool it.” _

 

_ “I'd never say it like--” _

 

_ “And he refuses because he has to be in top shape for Voltron. What do you do? A: physically stop him. B--” _

 

_ “Okay, I get it, I get it. We don't need to role play.” _

 

_ Lance wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. His face is totally not on fire. “If you wanted to role play, you only had to ask.”  _

 

_ Something strange happens. Keith's exertion red face  _

_ darkens even more, sweat making his skin glisten. (Sweat so totally not be hot, especially in this setting.) He scratches his neck, giving Lance a further view of his flushed skin. He's a body blusher! A body blusher!  _

 

_ But that begs the question: why is Keith blushing? The most obvious reason is that he likes Lance, and Lance’s flirty comment flustered him. Which, is probably not a thing. Someone actually liking Lance back? Impossible.  _

 

_ Though. . .looking at it objectively, if it were, say, Hunk and Shay in the same situation, he'd tell his bro with confidence that he should ask her out. The only difference in the equation is Lance himself, and the total denial he has been living with since his third rejection in high school. He flirts to flirt at this point. If a relationship happened, it would take a lot of convincing for Lance to think it's real. _

 

_ He's so dramatic.  _

 

_ Lance makes himself comfortable on the floor of the training room, gesturing for Keith to come sit next to him. He complies without much fuss, most likely lost in the soft and dreamy atmosphere that has engulfed them. Lance is almost afraid to say anything that might break the gentle promise between them.  _

 

_ Of course, he speaks anyway. It's what he does.  _

 

_ “Come on, at the very least take a break and rest your eyes. My shoulders may be boney as heck, but they have to be better than the floor.”  _

 

_ Keith hunkers down, bypassing Lance’s shoulder completely, instead settling his head onto Lance’s lap. He stiffens as the cheek on his thigh nuzzles as it settles.  _

 

Holy shit!

 

_ His mind is screaming,  _ it's happening! It's happening! _ And his heart jack rabbits as Keith's body goes lax, breaths even and deep. After waiting for what feels like eternity, he inches his hand slowly, slowly, closer and closer, before curling his fingers through Keith's hair. The black locks glide between his digits, slightly coarse against his skin. They only snag once, before he deftly untangles the strands.  _

 

_ “Thanks,” Keith mumbles, startling him. But he falls right back asleep, leaning into Lance as he does.  _

 

_ Sometimes after, despite the overhead lights and general stench of sweat, Lance falls asleep himself, head propped up against the wall.  _

 

_ This is his first mistake.  _

 

_ He is awakened by alarms. The blaring noise and flashing lights ring in his ears and echos light behind his eyelids as he startles, Keith already half out the doorway by the time he fully straightens.  _

 

_ “What's going on?” he calls, but his question is never answered. Instead of dwelling, Lance dashes after him. After they're all gathered, they face a roadblock.  _

 

_ Something is coming. It is not as large as former antagonists, but is aggressive nevertheless. They're taking an extra initiative, being as vulnerable as they currently are. _

 

_ Lance is already all set, fidgeting in Blue’s seat, adrenaline buzzing through his veins.  _

 

_ “Red won't let me pilot her,” Allura huffs, panic blazing behind her eyes. Her normally neat hair is spilling out of its confines, giving her an overall manic look.  _

 

_ “That makes no sense! You've done more than enough to prove yourself to her.” Keith paces, still clad in his Red Paladin gear. He refuses to let Coran make him a new Black suit, resolving to not take the final step into leadership. But maybe that is the problem.  _

 

_ “She doesn't even acknowledge me! What will we do?”  _

 

_ Suddenly it comes to him.  _

 

_ “Pilot Blue. She isn't as picky as Red seems to be. Though, if Red doesn't accept Princess, not sure. . .”  _

 

_ “She holds grudges.”  _

 

_ Allura purses her lips in defiance, but it is only a mask; she feels guilty, Lance knows she does, but she doesn't know how to properly show her remorse. Lance supposes that she and Keith are more alike than they care to admit.  _

 

_ Keith looks Lance in the eyes. Really looks. The set of the other's features is determined, and surprisingly lax despite the situation. There is a nod, slight as an exhale, but it's there.  _

 

_ “I'll try.” That’s all he can do. Maybe he and Keith's  unspoken, but palpable bond can give him that edge that Allura lacks.  _

 

_ He gives Blue a pat, letting her know that he'll be back as soon as he can, and that he totally isn't Paladin cheating on her. A rumble resembling a purr resonates in his mind, letting him know she understands.  _

 

_ Forcing himself away from Blue, he descends and makes his way to Keith. His hands sweat. His skintight suit squeaks. His heart races.  _

 

_ Keith cups the side of his neck in what has to be reassurance. Something surely he picked up from Shiro.  Lance is unable to reciprocate a comforting gesture, but he knows Keith understands.  _

 

_ Trying to connect with Red is daunting, but overall easier than expected. He forces his mind to direct itself to the Red lion, and unlike the fluid link with Blue, Lance swears he feels a warm breeze brush his face. And just like that, Red awakens, eyes lighting up. She has to be looking at him, or perhaps her wayward former Paladin. _

 

_ Allura seems to almost collapse with relief. She makes her way to Blue, who immediately recognizes her.  _

 

_ He will analyze his weird jealous feelings over a sentient mechanical lion later. Right now he's ready to kick some alien butt.  _

 

**_Stop._ **

 

_ Something wrong, Paladin?  _

 

**_Just. . .give me a few moments._ **

 

_ You cannot move on if you continue to ignore this.  _

 

**_. . .I know._ **

 

_ Then let us continue.  _

 

_ There is a calm before storm.  _

 

_ There is no robobeast. There is no ambush. At least, not when he is used to ambushes, and robobeasts. It's strangely calming, floating through space in complete silence, even the intercom silent as the others most likely take it in as well.  _

 

_ There is little time to acknowledge the way they are suspended in space when they're fighting so much. Now that Voltron is out of commission, their rescue missions have dwindled down to zilch. And that thought makes his stomach sink.  _

 

_ Or, that could've been his body warning him what's to come. Ignoring it is his second mistake.  _

 

_ The ship is small. Tiny, compared to all the others they've fought and destroyed before. It can't hold that many fighter ships, nor any robobeast or the like. His tight knuckled grip on Red’s controls loosens, and he takes the moment to wonder if the seat is heated, because that would be so cool.  _

 

_ He almost misses it. Out of the corner of his eyes, he sees the so-not-a-threat tiny ship unfold before them all, expanding like a spine.  _

 

_ ‘Holy quiznak,’ Hunk gasps through the intercom, sound crackling from his heavy breathing.  _

 

_ ‘This isn't good, it so isn't good,’ he answers. His eyes search and his muscles only unlock when he counts every lion. Everyone is okay at the moment.  _

 

_ A catwalk extends from the belly of the enemy ship, thin and fragile compared to the ever growing footage on either side of it. Out walks. . .okay, Lance isn't sure who they are. They strut out like they're not engaging the five lions of Voltron, like this is all a show that they are participating in. They also wear almost no protective gear, including a helmet to siphon oxygen to the wearer.  _

 

_ Lance hears Keith's sigh. ‘Someone is confident.’  _

 

_ ‘You mean arrogant. Lance is confident, this idiot is just arrogant.’ _

 

_ ‘Awe, thank you Pidge. You warm the cockles of my heart.’ _

 

_ ‘Please never say that again.’  _

 

_ ‘Paladins!’ Allura interrupts harshly. ‘This is not a man to be messed with! Lotor has something up his sleeve.” _

 

_ ‘That's Lotor?!? I was expecting someone all gross and lizard-y, not. . .hot.’  _

 

_ ‘Lance,’ Keith reprimands. Keith. Doing the reprimanding. ‘Now is not the time.’  _

 

_ ‘Okay, okay.’ _

 

_ Despite being hot, something about the Galra makes Lance’s skin crawl and the hairs on his arms stand at attention. Red seems to pick up on his discomfort, the air in her cockpit losing most of its moisture. She  _ definitely  _ does not like this guy.  _

 

_ Red is definitely hot-tempered compared to Blue. No wonder Keith was always so impulsive.  _

 

_ ‘What should we do? Should we hit him before he strikes us?’ Hunk asks.  _

 

_ Allura sounds like she's holding herself back. ‘We must not engage. He has most likely devised a plan for a full head on attack. We have to know what he is planning to counteract it.’ _

 

_ Keith's sigh crackles across the intercom. ‘Meaning we take a few hits.’ _

 

_ ‘I apologize Paladins, for asking this of you.’ _

 

_ ‘You're a Paladin now too, soooo, you're putting yourself in danger the same as the rest of us. Besides, I want the dirt on how you know so much about him after we kick his butt.’ _

 

_ Allura groans and Pidge snickers.  _

 

_ ‘Thank you Lance, you made me feel so much better.’ Lance is a little unsure whether she's being sarcastic or not, but he takes what he can get.  _

 

_ ‘Paladins, and, er, Princess, the castle ship is sensing great amounts of power from that growing ship!’ Coran adds. ‘Please be careful!’  _

 

_ ‘My middle name is--’ _

 

_ ‘Lance.’ Everyone says in unison. Totally ganging up on him.  _

 

_ But he gets the message. Talking distracts him from the way his heart pumps adrenaline into his limbs, the rush dizzying. Instead of his normal difficulty at focusing, he feels his attention zeroing in on the current threat.  _

 

_ Lance isn't going to lie to himself. This feeling is completely addicting. The clearness of his mind, the steadiness of his shaking (weird, he knows) and the subtle uptick of his breathing. He's no longer Lance, he's the Blue-, well, Red Paladin.  _

 

_ He seems to be the only one noticing the way Lotor’s eyes flint between each of the Lions, searching, detecting, dissecting. Full body shivers rack Lance’s body, and not the good kind.  _

 

_ Even more unsettling is the way his eyes glide over the other Lions and settle on Red. The smirk smearing the crazy calm expression is like a grim warning.   _

 

What the?

 

_ He can't finish his thoughts before Lotor raises his arms above his head, like a prayer. The ship glides and resettles under his command. Dozens of fighter jets reveal themselves behind the now behemoth ship, like the star speckled blanket was pulled off of them, revealing the grand prize.  _

 

_ ‘Holy shit, our Lions didn't detect any of them!’ Pidge yells.  _

 

_ ‘Defense!’ Keith replies through obvious clenched teeth. _

 

_ They attempt to get in formation, muscle memory taking over. Lance finds he can't move, and neither do any of the others.  _

 

_ All that goes through his head is, retreat, retreat, retreat! He smiles through his panic, his coping mechanisms running rampant. Lance’s desperation only increases when Lotor’s hands spread, the right one going down completely, the other slowly lowering to point at him. Right at him.  _

 

_ He feels the impact before he sees it.  _

 

_ It's like a ton slams into him. Red attempts to reorient them, sensing an incapacitated Paladin when she sees one, but it's already too late. Lance and Red are already spiralling through space and time, because dying can't take this long right?  _

 

_ Right?!  _

 

_ He hears distant screams, all blending together to create a choir of chaos, crescendo upon crescendo of terror. He's there enough to feel around for Red’s controls, his eyes reopening to see the interior of the Lion completely black. Completely dark.  _

 

_ “Red. . ?” he asks, or maybe pleads, because this can't be happening, no way. He's never been this close to the edge of disaster.  _

 

_ There's a great second impact. He must have flew straight into a moon or a planet or a. . .  _

 

_ He can't think.  _

 

_ All he knows is spreading warmth, but not the fuzzy kind. This is way too sticky to be pleasant. He knows his chest can barely contract, something suppressing any precious air from inflating his screaming lungs.  _

 

_ He's getting slowly crushed.  _

 

_ Lance’s head is spinning, his stomach threatening to heave itself through his throat. His ears ring violently, like a siren telling him  _ pain pain pain. 

 

_ He tries to move, he does, and he doesn't even try to fight the scream that tears through him. Light fades in and out, penetrating his eyelids, flashing like a pulse. It isn't until it's gone that he misses the comforting light.  _

 

_ Because it meant there was some way to save himself. Now, he knows, he's truly failed. Red is done for. And he's left the others to fend for themselves.  _

 

_ He's failed, game over. And there's no reset. He’ll probably sit here and either suffocate, or perhaps slowly get crushed to death. And it's all his fault.  _

 

_ Through his screaming ears, he swears he hears footsteps. How? He must be hallucinating. Isn't that a close sign of death. As though the rattling of his chest didn't already notify him, thanks.  _

 

_ The dark outside his eyelids brightens. He snaps them open, and flinches when he inhales sharply in surprise.  _

 

_ “That was easier than I expected.”  _

 

_ Lance fights to keep his eyes open, but he looks long enough to see who his visitor is.  _

 

_ Lotor. Probably came to finish him off.  _

 

_ “Fffuuck offf.” _

 

_ “Eloquent.” _

 

_ Lance is planning on saying more, but his tongue feels heavy and swollen in his mouth. He doesn't even have to swallow to taste iron.  _

 

_ Lotor is even prettier up close, and that further pisses Lance off. He has a sort of thrall, like a sleek panther sauntering through the dark. Elegant, but deadly. And you don't see him coming until it's too late.  _

 

_ “You know,” Lotor pauses, as though Lance would contribute to the conversation, “I'm surprised you're even breathing right now. That weapon should've torn the Lion totally to shreds. It's a misfortune we can only use it once.” _

 

_ Ugh. Antagonist monologue. This is the last thing he's going to hear before he dies.  _

 

_ “It's peculiar, really. You shouldn't have a strong enough connection with this lion to survive. I chose you particular because I could tell you are unused to piloting Red. I could tell by your sluggish movements. It had to be your first time.” Lotor leans in closer.  _

 

_ “I came to confirm you are indeed the Blue Paladin. It would be troublesome if the halfling died so soon.” Lance feels something like a claw drag across his damp cheek. He shies away. Or attempts to.  _

 

_ “I made the right call. You see, I am logical where my father was too driven by emotions.” _

 

_ If Lance could've, he would've scoffed and rolled his eyes. Zarkon, emotional? Yeah fucking right. Now he has to listen to his son who has obvious daddy issues.  _

 

_ “So I do not care what happens to the Lions. It would certainly be more convenient if Voltron all together was destroyed.”  _

 

_ Lance thinks he blacks out, or perhaps fades in and out of consciousness, because he doesn't remember how he got in this position. He's now out of the Red Lion, dangling. It's strange, really, that he feels no pain around his neck where Lotor must surely be holding him up.  _

 

_ Red mixes with the dirt below him and he briefly registers that it's his blood. He feels a muffled sense of concern, like listening to a concert down the street, so he doesn't get the full effect. Maybe he's just too far gone.  _

 

_ Lance has read somewhere that the sense of sound is the last to go before you die. He really wishes that weren't true, because even with him numb body he has to listen to Lotor’s droning voice; pleasant in its tone but not its words.  _

 

_ “Perhaps you would've made a decent pilot. But, with war, there are sacrifices. And luckily, you're not one I have to make. Maybe your death would be more gratifying if it were personal, but that was always my father's way of things. Goodbye, Blue Paladin.”  _

 

_ Pressure builds like a garrote upon his neck, and he supposes that's what Lotor’s digits become. It's all surreal, shiny and dull and intangible all at the same time, blurry in existence like old indie music Lance used to tease his brother for listening to.  _

 

_ He decides he doesn't want to go. This is not the most heroic way to kick the bucket, nor does he like how he is leaving the others. They could be dead for all he knows.  _

 

_ Best case scenario isn't much better: they're safe for now but forever without a Red Lion. Blue light snuffed out.  _

 

_ But what can he do but close his eyes and wish for the best? Even if he'd be able to fight, not against a ten thousand year old cooter. Lance isn't one to give up in the face of certain death, but he can smile at it. _

 

_ So smile he does.  _

 

_ The grip miraculously loosens. And then tightens even harder than before.  _

 

_ “What are you planning?” Prince Lotor demands, yada yada ya.  _

 

_ “Jjuussst finnnish it.”  _

 

_ He tries not to think how his mother, his entire family will never know what happened to him. He'll be a soldier without a cause, a reason to die to them. They'll never know his space exploits, nor his epic failures. He'll be another missing in-action-son.  _

 

_ The others might not have depended on him that much; but he's still letting them down. The Red Lion is broken because of him. Voltron is disabled, even more so than being without Shiro. He’ll never get to see where he and Keith's relationship could lead, never taste Hunk’s cooking or be swathed in his amazing hugs again, never exchange banter with Pidge one last time, never make Allura roll her eyes, make Coran stroke his mustache and laugh.  _

 

_ He never understood the concept of dying with honor until he's going to meet his demise without any.  _

 

_ The smell of burnt metal zaps through the air. The thin air fed to him by his barely-there mask stutters. Or maybe that's his lungs. Many things happen at once.  _

 

_ Red’s eyes light up in the corner of his drooping eyes, mangled maw opened in a silent roar as blue fire is spit out. The fire catches on Lotor’s still locks, and like dry straw, the tendrils are set aflame instantly, goes higher and higher before Lotor even senses it. Screams do not echo is space.  _

 

_ Lance is dropped, the ground welcoming.  _

 

_ A giant shadow is cast.  _

 

_ Before it all disappears, Lance swears Voltron is hovering over him, an empty space where a red appendage should be.  _

 

_ \--  _

 

_ He comes to cold and sore: just like the last time he was in a healing pod. The edges of his vision are crisp, while the middle is blurry like he has to blink away dust. When the fuzziness recedes, the flurry of activity confuses him, so he decides not to worry about it. _

 

_ He's not sure how long he's in and out of consciousness. Time bends and evades him, meaning that he might have been laying under gentle blue light for a day, or even a week or two. Lance is aware of touch, and smells, like floral perfume and sadness and a few days without a shower, which is totally gross.  _

 

_ When he finally is able to keep his eyes open, he realizes with some irony that the ripe smell is coming from him, confirmed once again by the terrible taste in his mouth. Who knows how long it's been since he's properly brushes his teeth. Even in this floating state he doesn't even want to know.  _

 

_ A gentle hand on his forehead stirs him even more, petite in a way that reminds him of his mother's. Even after all that time he faked that horrible stomach flu, his mother continued to listen to his complaints of ailments. (He supposes that it wasn't from the kindness of her heart, not entirely; reverse psychology worked wonders on middle school Lance.) She'd rub his forehead just like someone is doing now.  _

 

_ “‘om?” he mumbles.  _

 

_ The hand leaves his hairline like it's on fire. He guesses he startled her. She always hated when he fake slept, only to leap out of bed as she left the room.  _

 

_ “Lance,” a distinct not-your-mom voice says.  _

 

_ Once his vision clears he sees Allura, sitting on the edge of his bed. Looking at her battle hardened eyes, he never would have thought she could be so gentle. She's made made of steel, he knows that, but she's also only a lost young adult like he is.  _

 

_ He slurs out a teasing comment, in hopes he can wipe the guilty look on his commander's face. “Wow, Princess, waitin’ til I was inca- incapa- incapacitated before you made your move.” _

 

_ “And heartfelt moment over,” says a surly voice from across the room. He has to blink a few times to see who it is.  _

 

_ “Piiiiidge.” _

 

_ When they hear their name, they jerk and look away, expression hidden behind their new glasses. Why they keep wearing them is a mystery this Lance does not bother to speculate on.  _

 

_ They rush out of the room, as though the very army of the Galra is at their heels. Lance’s chest tightens.  _

 

_ Apparently the hurt is not unnoticed.  _

 

_ “Give them some time. . .they didn't take your near death experience too well.” Allura gives a harsh, bitter laugh. “None of us did.”  _

 

_ They all make sure he stays in bed for what feels like an eternity, refusing to give him much detail. Coran tries to tell him an Altean heroic fable that the red headed man thinks will cheer him up, which only makes him glad at that moment that whatever terrifying creature he speaks of is safely extinct. Hunk mother-hens himself into a tizzy, constantly hovering over Lance with an intent to kill anyone who tries to hurt him. Allura visits once a day, which is awkward at first until they find the common ground of beauty products (okay, more like Allura asks about his face masks out of pity and ends up loving them.) Pidge comes often, always at night and when they should be sleeping. They still haven't talked much yet, but Lance let's it go since he knows how sensitive the little gremlin is to loss.  _

 

_ The only one who doesn't visit is Keith. And for some reason, that hurts the most.  _

 

_ Until one night.   _

 

_ He's startled out of sleep, causing him to stand in a hurry, sure that Lotor is standing over him, ready to crush his windpipe.  _

 

_ But amazingly,“Keith?”  _

 

_ The person next him jolts like he just got struck by lightning.  _

_ Lance’s legs feel as shaky as a newborn colt’s, so he lets them give out underneath him to sit next to Keith, who looks like he hasn't slept in a week. From the extent of Lance’s injuries, maybe he hasn't.  _

 

_ “You're awake.” Keith states without inflection.  _

 

_ He slurs a,“Yes. It sure feels like it.” _

 

_ The room is completely silent.  _

 

_ Lance spies an arm cast. Guilt is sour in his throat. If he had been more careful, had more skill, Keith and the others would have had a less chance of getting injured. In the end, all he'd been was a distraction. His skin feels too tight.  _

 

_ He asks one of the questions plaguing him since he began recovering. One everyone else dances around.  _

 

_ “. . .Red?”  _

 

_ “She can't fly anymore, but Hunk was working on her earlier and said he and Coran will be able to get her in working condition.” _

 

_ “That’s a relief.”  _

 

_ Quiet. And for the first time in forever, awkwardness. Lance isn't sure who it comes from, and what made it so. He just got injured, so shouldn't this be the time for hugs and kisses? Perhaps he's just being self-absorbed, since there is more important things at stake than his feelings.  _

 

_ “I'm. . .” Keith’s voice cracks, “I'm really glad you're okay. It was touch and go for a long time.”  _

 

_ “How bad and for how long?” More questions the others never answered.   _

 

_ “A week. You had a lot of internal bleeding, which apparently is really tricky for the healing pods to fix. You're lungs. . .they were almost completely crushed.” _

 

_ He balks. It's probably better for him not to know all the bits and broken pieces he came in. But he can tell that it really bothers Keith, which is more important than his discomfort; besides, he feels relief every time cool air expands his lungs and he can  _ breathe. 

 

_ “Look. . .this is a horrible thing to do after you almost. . .almost died. But whatever is going on, it needs to be on hold.”  _

 

_ “Our thing? Can we at least call it what it is? A relationship. Romantic relationship.”  _

 

_ Keith clenches his fist, eyes trained on the floor. “Yes. Our romantic relationship. I just. . .I can't deal with it becoming anymore, and losing you.  No way. I already lost Shiro-- again. Twice. I -- I’m being selfish, but can we wait to start. . .to start a. . .”  _

 

_ “A relationship,” Lance deadpans.  _

 

_ “Yeah.” _

 

_ Lance studies Keith. His skin is sallow and drawn thin over his face, his lips set in a permanent line of distress. His usually kept hair is wild, fly aways and cowlicks in a wavy knot. He looks worn, sickly.  _

 

_ It makes sense, really. Instead of heading face first into a relationship during wartime, the normally impulsive Keith wants to wait. _

 

_ “You want to wait until we defeat the Galran empire? You know it could take a long time. And we might die in the process.” _

 

_ Keith wrings his hands. Lance knows if he had a knife in his hand he'd be fidgeting with it.  _

 

_ “I know, that's what's selfish about it.” _

 

_ Lance sighs, bone tired. It isn't Keith asking this of him, of them, that gets his chest tight (though maybe formally collapsed lungs will do that to you.) It's that, in the end, they might not even get to try their feelings on, see how it makes them feel. Another day one of them could die for real.  _

 

_ “Okay, I understand. But if you change your mind let me know. And I hope we can still be. . .close.”  _

 

_ Keith slumps once again, but this time in relief. “Thanks.”  _

 

_ Lance makes sure to smile when he says, “So, tell me how Voltron can form without all five Lions.”  _

 

He’s jolted out of the memory. The sudden withdraw of the intrusion known as Kalala making his head throb. It almost feels strange to be alone in his mind after what feels like an eternity of reliving fond and not-so-fond-memories. Okay, so maybe 13% was fond.  

 

_ “ _ That's it? No other underlying problems?”

 

Kalala stands over him, hands steepled. They might sigh, because a strange rattling noise escapes their beak. 

 

“You do, everyone does. But these are the things you are having the hardest time with. Homesickness. Fears of failure. Jealousy. And a love pushed away after an extremely traumatic event.”

 

“Wait, wait, if we're going in order, why would Pidge’s bit show jealousy?”

 

They step back, gesturing that Lance can now sit up. Lance refuses, wanting an answer. 

 

“Only you can correctly answer that, but it might be in the right direction to look at their relationship with Matt.” 

 

Lance facepalms, “Quiznak.” Of course he's worried about what their relationship will be once they find Matt, but he didn't think he'd be this petty. 

 

“Everything you feel is valid. Even unsavory ones, as long as you do not directly hurt others in your own hurt. You are human. Humans have such strong, if not often irrational, emotions.”

 

Lance finally sits up, resting his forearms on his knees, running a clammy hand through his hair. He feels. . .uncomfortable in his skin, like something just isn't right. He thinks maybe this is what Pidge feels when they are asked to describe their dysphoria. Like people are looking at him from the inside, and what they see isn't right. 

 

“All this. . .therapy or whatever this was, has me feeling worse than when we started.” 

 

“For a wound to heal, you have to dispel the pus, correct?”

 

“Okay, gross visual, thanks, but I guess I understand. Guess it also correlates with the ‘you can't fix what you don't acknowledge’ shtick.”

 

Kalala nods, peak pointed toward the floor. “Whoever teaches that is wise.”

 

Lance supposes Dr. Phil will be happy to hear that from the grave. 

Lance exits the hall, a bit disoriented. All he wants is a quiet place to gather his thoughts, by why do that when you can avoid them entirely by distracting yourself with others? 

 

He chastises himself internally, but when in a potentially hostile territory, it's better to find the others anyway. His thoughts and overabundance of emotions can wait until night as always. 

 

A day appears to have passed since he started the so called trial. It feels both too long of a time, and too short as well. His memories are long and strenuous to go through, so it makes sense that it took an entire day. Night winks at him, two twin moons parallel in the sky. Another reminder that this isn't Earth, and he can't continue to let himself fall into the allusion. 

 

He's lead to the dining room like cavern, the low ceilings still making him queasy. It reminds him too much of the feeling of metal pressing down his chest, and clawed fingers enclosing around his delicate neck. He shakes it off and continues over the threshold. 

 

It's almost entirely empty. 

 

“Where is everyone,” he asks Coran. Allura has her arms wrapped around Pidge, who is shaking. He's on full alert. “What happened?!” 

 

“We all decided to take the trials. Yours. . .took the longest, all but Keith's. Hunk is lying down, and Pidge wanted to wait for you.” As Allura speaks, Pidge peals themselves off of the Princess’ shoulder, and half walks half stumbles until they fall into his arms. 

 

“It'll be okay, Pidge-Podge,” Lance assures, like he knows anything. He suspects he's as lost as they are, he's just been adrift for too long that he can't really tell. Pidge has reached their breaking point, pushed by whatever they've seen in their alien therapy sessions. He can't blame them, so he just tightens his hold on them.

 

They stand like that for who knows how long, but he doesn't mind. There's nothing else he can really do to comfort Pidge; something must really bother them if they willfully hug someone. Touch isn't something they seek, not like Hunk and Lance. 

 

Finally, Pidge’s shaking ceases, and they fall asleep standing up. Still not the most precarious way they've slept, though it feels more significant since they're trusting Lance to hold them up. Or maybe they're just too tired and Lance is over thinking. . .and this attitude is what causes him problems. 

 

He extracts them, his arms going numb, and gives them back to Allura. Coran studies him as he does so, eyes narrow. 

 

“This better ‘ave done more good than bad or this Altean is gonna be a handful.” 

 

Lance throws his head back and laughs, so hard he snorts. He thanks the eccentric Altean and excuses himself, forever grateful, but too tired to go back to back on banter. 

He finds himself sitting on the castle ship deck, staring at the night sky. The castle is still sitting on Ualnie soil, so Lance can close one eye, squint, and pretend the double moons are just a trick of his eye. 

 

Keith finds him like that, face twisted up in a ridiculous mask. It figures. Keith always sees him at his worst.

 

“Hey.” 

 

“Hey buddy.” 

 

Keith plays with his fingerless gloves, both hanging half off his hands before he tightens them over his knuckles. 

 

“Heard you went through the psych ringer like me,” Lance says, trying to play it cool. Kalala brought up all their best memories, and their most hurtful one. It feels fresh now, hurts even more than after it happened because of the double hindsight. 

 

“Yeah. I mean, with the third eye thing, how cliche right?” 

 

“Well, our ancient ancestors had to get the idea from somewhere, right?” 

 

Keith laughs, and Lance can tell it sounds awkward even to him. The air between them has been clear for a long time, no hard feelings. It wasn't a real end, not of their friendship, which he's begrudgingly valued for a long time. But Keith has always been the more awkward one between them, and well, the entire team. 

 

“You and Pidge with your conspiracy theories.” Keith says it fondly. 

 

“Listen here, bud, we all know about you and your cryptids, so who's the real nerd. . .okay, we are all nerds, just differently, I guess. I'm the cool one, though.” 

 

Smiling warmy, if not tiredly, Keith sits next to him, closer than he has in a long time. Always in necessity, never willingly. 

 

“Soooo, any reason why you're here and not resting like any sane person would after the torture trial?” Lance asks. 

 

“Torture trial. . .has a nice ring to it.” 

 

Lance gives Keith his best imitation of not-messing-around-mom-friend look that Hunk has mastered over the years. Keith, the little jerk, just laughs it off, shaking his head in, dare Lance say, an affectionate manner. 

 

“I could ask you the same,” he begins, “But I wanted to apologize.” 

 

Lance dramatic looks around, “For what, exactly?” 

 

Keith swallows nervously. “For, well, you know what.” 

 

“Keith, I have no idea. It could be about the time you broke my headphones and blamed Pidge for all I know, which I totally forgave like the gracious person I am.” 

 

“But they did!” Keith argues. Taking a deep, calming breath, Keith continues, “For pulling away like I did. Just after you almost  _ died,  _ for quiznak's sake! It was selfish, and stupid. You and Shiro were too kind about it.” 

 

Their shoulders brush. 

 

“Keith, a relationship takes more than one person. So, really, that decision was yours to make. And, it made sense at the time. The only one who's hard on you is you.” 

 

“Spoken like a true alien therapist.” Keith is smiling. 

 

“I know, right? But. . .Keith, the offer still stands. My near death experience had the opposite effect on me as it did you. Fuck Lotor, and the evil Galra empire, right?” 

 

Fingertips brush, breaths exhale, and lips meet for the first time. The feeling is drier and more chaste than Lance would've expected, but any of that can wait after a few long talks and a dozen awkward pauses. It's Keith and Lance, neck and neck, after all.

 

Lance knows that their relationship won't be ideal, not right away. Life and death gets in the way of their everyday life, and that environment can be straining to even the strongest relationships, let alone their fledgling status. But nothing comes without work.

 

“Yeah,” Keith whispers. “Better to love and lose and all that crap.” 

 

Lance laughs, not for the first time stunned by Keith's unpoetic words of inspiration. And it won't be the last time, if he can help it.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed please let me know in the comments! Thank you! 
> 
> You can find me on tumblr at eccentrick-stardust.
> 
> Edit: I just noticed the format is screwy, I apologize. Ao3 made it a big hassle to post this so I won't be fixing it in fear that everything will be messed up. Sorry! 
> 
> Disclaimer: I know that not every non-binary person minds having breasts etc., but I'm just going off of my experiences and my headcanons for Pidge.
> 
> EDIT II: TWO EPISODES IN S3 AND I ALREADY LOVE LOTOR. GET REKT ME.


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